


Cooking Lesson

by Ylevihs



Series: How Not to Fall [18]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Baking, Discussions of marriage, Established Relationship, Fluff, Flystep - Freeform, M/M, Retribution Spoilers, mentions of past relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 17:32:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19339267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ylevihs/pseuds/Ylevihs
Summary: Herald teaches Richard a recipe.





	Cooking Lesson

“Alright,” Daniel was floating roughly six inches off the ground, placing his head nearly level with Richard’s. “Do you know where you want to start?” 

Richard frowned and surveyed the supplies. Raw materials and tools were scattered over the counter, helpfully grouped by Daniel as he had gathered them. Of course Richard knew where he supposed to begin. He also knew how it was supposed to end. It was when he got to the middle that things started to go sideways. But he wasn’t a complete idiot, all evidence to the contrary. Starting was easy. 

“I’m going to start with,” he paused and considered his options. Grabbed a large glass bowl. “I put all the,” he waved a vague hand at the containers. They were plainly labeled but Richard didn’t trust like that. “All that in here together,”

“Good,” Daniel said obligingly. “Grab a measuring cup,” there was a notecard in his left hand but from the brief flitting of his thoughts, Richard doubted that he really needed it anymore. “And mix together the flour and salt and then the baking soda and powder,” he drifted over, not exactly hovering over Richard’s shoulder, to watch him take the measurements. 

This was the easy part. The beginning. Everything was measurements. Increments. Richard could do that part. He. Stopped because Daniel had plucked the spoon from his hand and replaced it with a wire whisk. And then mixed the dry ingredients together until he heard a satisfied little noise from Daniel. 

“So you’ve never tried to bake cookies on your own?”

“Why would I?” Richard set the mixing bowl down on the counter and did his best not to linger on the other ingredients. He could feel the mounting judgement coming from the eggs. 

“Because cookies are nice?” Daniel hazarded, as though the idea of someone never baking cookies before didn’t fit in with his worldview. “Not even out of a tube?” Ah, yes. Richard had seen those, next to the section where he found his frozen meals. Long cylinders of premade dough with manic grinned, dead eyed cartoon characters on the packaging. 

“Not even out of a tube,” although perhaps it would have been more fitting. Daniel with his hand written recipes with notes scribbled in the margins and Richard with a mass produced straight-from-a-factory processed log. Daniel seemed to consider his answer for a moment before moving on.

“Now we need to cream together the butter and the sugar,” Daniel said. 

“I...okay,” Richard’s mind staggered just a little. Barely noticeable. He could do that. He just needed to plug in the mixer and put in the…whisky bits…and. Yeah. He could do that. The butter was softened and the sugars had swirled together to make a lovely abstract look in the measuring cup as he poured them in. He clicked the mixer on and watched the metal whir away. “Is this your own recipe?” he asked after a moment of silently watching the machine blend the sweet and rich together. 

“No, actually,” and Richard could feel the dip and dart of the thoughts, coming to a decision. “It’s from an old girlfriend of mine,” there was a hint of dark hair, pretty eyes. 

“Oh,” because what else could he say to that? From what few questions he’d ever asked, it had always sounded like Daniel had had a relatively normal dating life. A few steady girlfriends. A lot of one date wonders, young ladies who were a bit too star struck even for Danny to deal with. Daniel never seemed like he was avoiding the topic, but then again Daniel rarely ever danced around an awkward moment.

“We didn’t date for very long,” Daniel continued, “But she liked baking and told me I could keep this recipe of hers,”

“You got the cookies in the divorce, huh?” it was a bad joke, but he caught the edge of a wry smile taking Daniel’s face before he floated over to check that the oven was heating properly. 

“Something like that,” and. Oh. Oh, no, there was an edge to that voice and his thoughts were tumbling and Daniel was going to bring it up. Richard could feel it in his teeth, he was going to bring it up because they were having a nice afternoon and it was the perfect chance to ruin it. “It wasn’t a bad break up. We only dated a few months before we were both kind of like ‘oh’, you know?”

Richard didn’t, still gritting his teeth in anticipation. His fingers curled on the countertop. Tried not to look as tense as he felt. Maybe Daniel wouldn’t bring it up. It was a terribly high hope. “Not really,” 

“I mean. She was nice and we liked being together but after a while it just felt kind of forced,” Daniel looked down at the recipe card, suddenly sheepish. “And I guess I kept trying to make it work when,” an awkward pause. Daniel? Try to make something work when clearly it was better off being left broken? Yeah, that sounded about right. “Anyway, her cookies were the best,” he lifted a little higher to peek into the mixing bowl. “That’s looking good. Now add the eggs and vanilla,” room temperature eggs and dark vanilla extract went into the mix. “Turn the speed up a little higher…there. That’s good,”

The oven beeped, ready and waiting. 

“Next add in the flour and stuff, right?” the tiny blip of anxiety was dying down. Maybe Daniel wouldn’t try to bring up that topic. Maybe they could just make cookies that he hopefully wouldn’t mess up and have a good afternoon together.

“Yeah, but turn the speed down first, so it doesn’t get anywhere. And add it in slowly,” Daniel tacked on to the end, clearly assuming Richard was going to dump the entire bowl in at once. He wasn’t _completely_ wrong, but the assumption made something inside Richard grumble. Still, he did as he was told and slowly shook in the dry ingredients, watching as the machine slipped them in and began forming a thick glop and then finally a dough. Bringing all the separate parts together. There was something therapeutic in that thought, even if Richard didn’t let it grab his attention for long. 

Bit and pieces. Sugar and flour and loose ends all coming together. Only one piece remaining and then all that was left was to not burn it down. 

“I know you never…or at least it sounds like you never, you know,” Daniel bobbed in the air; Richard could feel the gentle curiosity pulling at him. Wanting to know but not sure if he was allowed to ask. Not sure if he really wanted the answer. “You’ve never dated,” a tinge of finality to the statement. It certainly wasn’t the question he wanted to ask. It was turning out to be an odd sticking point for Daniel. Something shadowy in him about first loves and being out of depth and. “Did you ever want to? Like…get to know someone better like that?” he started fiddling with the baking sheets, making a soft clanging to accompany his words. He then placed them on the counter and flicked the mixer off entirely. 

The jarring silence brought more weight to his question and Richard could sense immediately that Daniel hadn’t meant for it to. 

There was very little else in the world Richard could think of to hate more than the way his mind immediately summoned up memories of Ortega. _That_ had been a flash in the pan if ever there was one. He’d been younger. Fresher. And Ortega was. Well. He was Ricardo Ortega. Everyone he knew was at least a little bit into Charge. It didn’t help the latent embarrassment. It certainly didn’t make him want to admit it to Daniel. 

“There were people I was attracted to, if that’s what you mean,” he offered, knowing full well that it wasn’t what Daniel meant. “But dating wasn’t something I could do back then. And then. After,” 

“Right,” the tone was gentle, trying to understand even if he couldn’t quite comprehend. It was a kind sound. “I’m glad,” he said equally quiet. “That you said ‘yes’ back when I asked you to dinner,” 

The words were out before Richard could even start to process them. “I’m glad I did too,” which was the truth, he realized, to the slowly dawning dread in the wrinkles of his heart. A cold sea wind, gathering frost on the windows of his soul. Getting involved with Daniel was stupid. Dangerous. It could only end in disaster for one or most likely both of them. It was monumentally selfish to feel glad about that. 

But he felt it anyway. Someone, somewhere in the frozen hamlet of his heart, was trying to start a cozy fire.

Daniel smiled softly and drifted up at his side to begin unwrapping two bars of chocolate, cutting one into rough chunks and the second into tinier bits. It still made Daniel jumpy to see Richard using knives, even if he’d never. Richard had been clear that. Well. He knew better than to force the issue, though, and let Danny chop at the candy. Richard peeked at the wrapper. Dark backdrop. Silver filigree. 

“Ooh, fancy cursive. Bringing out the quality goods, lover boy?” 

Daniel snorted and rolled his eyes gently. “Only the best. Give it a taste,” he held a piece up in between his pointer finger and thumb. It was a remarkably innocent gesture. One that Richard was sorely tempted to sully. He indulged, slowly bringing his hand up to draw Daniel’s offering closer. 

Richard gave Daniel enough time to pull away and when he didn’t, feeling the thoughts flutter and then settle and spring back up in delighted anticipation, slipped the chocolate and Daniel’s fingers into his mouth. He let his tongue slid in between the digits, dislodging the candy and pulling it into his mouth. Daniel made a light humming sound when Richard gave an extra suck for good measure before slipping Danny’s fingers free and actually focusing on the taste of the chocolate. Daniel let his fingertips linger on Richard’s lips.

Richard swallowed audibly. Part of him recognized it as being good chocolate. The rest of him was occupied with other thoughts. “Certainly has a way of coating your tongue, doesn’t it?” Sweet, but not overwhelming. It melted smoothly and spread with only the barest pressure from his tongue. He let go of Daniel’s hand. 

“Only the best,” Daniel, oh dear. Daniel _winked_ at him and deposited the rest of the chocolate into the mixing bowl. The mixer buzzed back to life at a low setting, dark brown pips being folded in. “Now, grab the ice cream scooper,” he pointed, voice steady, but Richard could feel the little titter. Felt it echoed in his own chest. “We want to use it to make sure each cookie is mostly the same size,” 

“Got it,” this wasn’t going badly. It was in fact, going well, a thought which Richard’s mind was examining like a jeweler inspecting a shoddy ring. “Every time I try to cook for myself I end up burning something,” he said out loud, scooping out half orbs of cookie dough and clicking them onto the baking sheets. 

“Yeah, Ortega told me about the time you nearly set his apartment on fire,”

“That,” that _little_ , “Okay, first of all, I did not set his apartment on fire. I didn’t even set his kitchen on fire. I set a napkin on fire, which I put out immediately,” Daniel was grinning at him. Beaming. Not even trying to hide how delighted he was at poking him so easily. “Secondly, I asked him not to tell you about that,” he clicked out another dollop of dough to punctuate himself. The grin didn’t falter. 

“He said he was teaching you to make eggs benedict?”

A chorus of grumbles from Richard’s many internal monologues. “Yeah,”

“Bold choice for lesson number one, if you ask me,” the smile shrunk a few molars, but his thoughts were all still summer shandy bright. 

“I think he just wanted to show off his own skills,” Richard said and Daniel hummed. Neutral. He darted in to take the baking trays and Richard snuck a kiss in against his cheek. His reward was a gentle laugh and a return peck. Daniel took the trays and slipped them into the oven. The timer beeped, set for ten minutes. Daniel rose. Completely at eye level now.

Ah, beans.

“So,”

Richard’s stomach clenched, heart sinking straight through it into his toes. “So,” he echoed. 

“I just,” Daniel wavered, eyes glancing around the room before settling hard on Richard’s face. Determined. “I just want your thoughts on it, is all. I don’t think we should…that we need to have the full conversation yet. But, so we’re on the same page? I want to know if marriage is something that you would ever want with anyone. It doesn’t have to be about us, just in general,” nerves bled through in his voice. Hey this is a nice chat, no need to worry about anything, right? No one’s proposing to anyone.

“I think it’s stupid,” a knee jerk reaction. A lie. Richard leaned back against the counter.

“Okay,” slow. “Why?” Daniel’s arms crossed over his chest. His thoughts fluttered high. On guard. Ah, _beans_.

“Because,” Richard felt the skin on his back trying to crawl off and hide. “I don’t. That’s not something someone like me gets to consider, okay? The smiley, white picket fence dream. Dog and a cat and two snot nosed brats. That’s what the starry eyed ideal is, isn’t it?” a part of him realized that he was edging into over-defensive territory. An overreaction. He ignored it. Let his jaw tighten and his lip curl into a sneer. Where did they get off suggesting something like that? Ortega he could understand. Ortega hadn’t known yet and had been being an idiot. But Daniel? 

Daniel should have. 

Shouldn’t have. 

Couldn’t understand. Daniel slotted in perfectly with that Rockwell-esque fantasy. Golden haired father, tossing a football to his cherubic son while his perky wife and rosy cheeked daughter laughed. A perfectly trained dog and a gorgeous cat. Manicured lawn. Spotless house. Flawless smiles. The American Dream. There certainly wasn’t any space in the family portrait for a rescued fighting dog, let loose on the streets to go feral for too long. He’d get fleas everywhere. And what happened if he bit? 

Richard knew he was being a little too cruel about it, even in his own thoughts. He could only curb them slightly. 

“And all the talk about it being a partnership? Sure. _Great_. So long as you always agree. But if you start deviating? It’s a prison. It starts out fine but then something goes wrong, and it’s not the same as breaking up. Once you’re married it’s suddenly divorce and failure and shame, or it’s resentment and waiting for the other person to die so you can get on with your life. Or someone cheats, or lies, or person A hits person B, or, I don’t,” the anger was fizzling out, the mention of violence tightening his vocal chords. A wave of self-revulsion. His knee started bouncing. Richard wasn’t sure when he’d started wringing his hands, but he stopped it by gripping the edge of the counter. 

“Well,” Daniel smacked his lips after a moment, clearly unimpressed. “That escalated quickly,”

_“Danny,”_

Daniel put his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, I didn’t know you felt so strongly about it,” gentle now, arms unfolding to hang down by his sides. “Like I said, I hadn’t really ever thought about it. When I was a kid, before I took the hero drug, marriage was just something that happened to old people. And when I got older it was just something that happened to everyone else. I don’t,” his thoughts scattered a little before regrouping. His parents didn’t have the best marriage. Not the worst, either. But it felt like Richard’s comment about it being a prison hit a little close to home. “It’s not the most important thing in the world to me. If I never got married it wouldn’t bother me. But. I like the idea of having something,” he said after a moment.

It took every fiber of self-control Richard had not to delve in deeper to find out what that meant for himself. Admittedly, there were hardly enough fibers to make yarn, but he managed. 

The warm smell of cookies was beginning to waft out of the oven. 

“Of having proof that there’s someone who chose you, who knows who you are, and said that they’ll have your back no matter what. Like it’s. Yeah, it’s more of a commitment but that’s kind of the whole point?” And then he blindsided Richard. “You want that, don’t you? That’s why the thought of it freaks you out so much,”

Richard’s conscious mind politely excused itself for a moment. Silence. Far too much of it. Broken by Daniel, pressing harder. “You feel like you don’t deserve it but you want it,”

Oh that. That just wasn’t fair. “This isn’t—,” Daniel cut him off. 

“Yes, it _is_ about what you want, Richie,” he floated over and Richard let him, still reeling. Felt his palms sliding over the backs of his hands even as he gripped at the counter’s edge. “I’m not asking what you think you deserve or what you think is possible. I want to know what you _want_ for yourself,” Daniel’s thoughts were too strong for his own good. They felt like warm sunshine and safety and family and home. Things Daniel wanted. 

Things Sidestep would have given anything to have a chance at. 

The timer beeped, a steady three second tone followed by another. 

A squeeze against his hands. “I don’t know what I want anymore, lover boy,” which was also a lie. Mostly he wanted a drink. He only partially wanted to flicker out of existence at the moment, which was nice. The feeling was always there, like the electronic hum from the wires in the walls, but some days it was easier to ignore than others. He wanted to keep Daniel and Ortega safe. And he wanted the Farm in ashes and damn the consequences and ‘lost research’. “The cookies are gonna burn,” he said, voice more weak than soft. Daniel sighed and folded, snatching up the oven mitts from the counter and taking out the trays. 

The air filled with the heat of the oven and the cloying smell of rich desserts. The little rounds were light gold, crisping at the edges and darkening on the trays. 

“It feels wrong to want those things for myself,” and it felt like an outright affront to nature to want those things with Daniel. “But,” he felt Daniel’s eyes on him. “Maybe someday,” and even though the admission had to be hauled up from the bottom of the ocean, it felt hollow in his mouth. Empty. An open space that was quickly filled with Daniel’s private elation blasting out in all directions. He couldn’t stop the smile tweaking at the corners of his mouth. 

It was embarrassing how easily Daniel could get to him. Richard struggled to keep the smile from turning into a grin. He wrangled it down. “Not until after,” 

“Right,” Daniel agreed, quick and easy. Not until after. If there even was an after—that was when Richard could start considering it. Considering. Being someone’s. Being Daniel’s. 

Hm.

“Cool enough to try one, you think?” Richard looked for anything to keep from thinking about that particular impossibility. 

“Probably not,” Daniel said with a shrug, immediately sliding one off the tray anyway. He broke it in half, the middle of the cookie soft and slightly gooey with heat and handed Richard part. It stung his fingers, burned a little in his mouth and Daniel winced in sympathy as he took his own bite. Richard couldn’t stop the bubble of laughter and he had no hope of keeping it down when Daniel started giggling back. In between stutters he managed to suck in a few breaths to cool down the confection on his tongue. Daniel had opted for swallowing and letting it singe down his throat, which he cleared loudly. “Best cookie you’ve ever had, right?” 

Richard nodded, cheeks burning. “Best cookie I’ve ever made, that’s for sure,” he finally managed to swallow it down. What parts he had tasted had been pretty good, to be fair. 

“See? I’ll make a baker of you, yet,” and Daniel stayed still enough for Richard to lean forward and catch his mouth. Hints of chocolate and sugar on his tongue. 

“Looking forward to it,”

**Author's Note:**

> HMU if you want the cookie recipe


End file.
